


Episode 2: Sowing Dragon's Teeth

by spectacledotter



Series: Mass Effect: The Next Generation [2]
Category: Mass Effect, Metroid Series
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Post-Canon, episodic series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacledotter/pseuds/spectacledotter
Summary: Turian bounty hunter Samus Aran has her own team now--a geth-quarian hybrid, a krogan medic, a Reaper creation, and the asari daughter of the famous Commander Shepard. Now called the Shadow Hunters, they are the Shadow Broker's newest task force to maintain the balance of power in the galaxy as the Reapers' infighting puts ever more worlds and peoples at stake. Searching for a Reaper who turns whole ship populations into monsters, their mission to the ever-stranger world of Feros only brings yet more mysteries. An ancient danger resurfaces, and the entire legacy of Commander Shepard is thrown into question.





	

The massive ship _Chances_  bursts through the mass relay into the Shaestra system, on its way to the salarian world Nasurn. Even in its compacted 'travel' state, _Chances_  meets most turian dreadnoughts in size, and exceeds a few. Its design eschews the use of wings--a ship like this will never enter atmosphere--and instead has a massive, slowly rotating sphere at the centre, flanked by twin saucers rotating in the opposite direction, all connected by an extensive and modular system of cylinders and pods. The drive core is contained in the conical base, below the second saucer, and the propulsion system extends up into similar but smaller cones of power all over the ship. There is no other ship like it in all the galaxy.

Artemis Shepard sits on the bed at the end of her narrow pod of a cabin, her legs crossed and her hands together, forming a tiny singularity between them. She keeps her eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of dark energy rippling through her body, twisting in the space between her hands, making a small ball of light with the utter void at its center. _Breathe slow. Concentrate on the way the space feels, the way it shapes around the center point._  A meditation technique she'd learned from her mother, long ago.

No matter how far across the galaxy she is, the singularity in her hands makes her feel back at home, at her mother's side.

Her concentration--and the ball of light--are broken by her door beeping from a request to enter.

"Who is it?" she asks, unfolding her legs and swinging them over the side of the bed.

"Samus Aran," comes the voice from the door.

Artemis hits the button on the side of the door to open it and face the tall turian woman, with her green eyes and crescent-shaped, asymmetrical facial tattoos. "Need something, Samus?" she asks.

"The truth," says Samus flatly. Artemis sighs. This has been coming since they arrived at _Chances_  from their mission on Tuchanka, with the last remnant of a Reaper and the ancestral knowledge of its species in tow. Samus is too smart; she's figured out too much, too quickly.

She steps back to let Samus inside. "The truth about what?"

"You," says Samus. She leans against the wall of cabinets in an attempt to take up as little space as possible, but Artemis still trips over her talons on her way back to the bed. "Fate doesn't hire a lot of turians, huh?"

"I think you might be the first," says Artemis with a soft laugh. "The only other permanent staff I know are Saria and Elyx. The entertainers are always cycling."

"Is there a reason the staff here is only asari?"

Artemis shrugs. "They're both huntresses. They're not staff so much as enforcers. Shadow Net, too."

"Enforcers. Does the Broker send people here to be assassinated quietly?"

"No. Chances wouldn't be effective if it got a reputation for people dying here." She grins up at Samus. "Is this what you wanted to ask about?"

Samus's mandibles click irritably as she shifts her weight to find a better position against the wall. The ceiling is a little too low for her. "No. I'm here to ask about your relationship with Reapers."

"I told you I was raised on one."

"You also told me the Broker would explain everything. She didn't explain why Shepard's daughter was raised by a Reaper."

Artemis bites her lower lip. "Look... I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you. And I don't know everything myself. The Shadow Broker raised me, and her ship is a Reaper. They're partnered, basically. Like you and Varia."

"You can do that with Reapers? Wouldn't the Reaper just take over?"

"It can, but it doesn't have to. That's a choice. But that's who I grew up with. The Broker sent me here to learn how to be a Watcher... something I'm not very good at," with a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "I like action too much, I guess. But she wants me to be the next Broker, in the future."

"Is she your mother?"

Artemis glances up at Samus in surprise, then shakes her head with a sigh. "What the history books say about my mother--that she disappeared after the Reapings? That's true. What I know about Diana Shepard and Liara T'Soni comes from vids."

Samus squats down next to the bed and pats Artemis's leg with a gentle, albeit awkward, talon. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but I'm fine. I never really knew anything else."

"You still wonder, though. Who they were--if they'd be proud of who you grew up to be."

"Yeah... I do." The realization strikes her, and she meets Samus's gaze. "You were orphaned, right? I just remembered."

"Then adopted," says Samus with a nod. "I think I told you that story."

"Yeah, you did. Hey--I double checked earlier, and I know why I've heard the name Griseus Vox. The pirates that attacked Zebes were Chimerus, weren't they?"

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised you know the whole story, huh," says Samus, getting to her feet.

"Have you ever wanted revenge against Chimerus?"

Samus is silent for a minute, but then she nods. "For a long time. Not so sure now, though. Revenge isn't the same thing as justice."

"Prison taught you that, huh."

"Yes it did." She stretches her arms out and back. "Thanks for being honest with me, Artemis. I haven't been in a real team for a long time... trust isn't easy for me anymore."

"I have your back, Samus. You can trust that."

The twin red lights on the ceiling suddenly start flashing, followed by Lady Luck's voice over the station intercom. "STAND BY FOR RECONFIGURATION."

Artemis scurries back on the bed to make room. "Sit with me, Samus. You don't want to be standing for this."

In orbit around Nasurn, the great ship begins to change. First it orients itself so the inactive propulsion jets aim down, towards the planet. The conical jets turn inwards, including the largest on the now bottom of the ship. The system of pods and pillars holding the sphere and saucers together separate and reform into a series of rings between the saucers and around the sphere. Finally, everything settles into its place, and the reconfiguration is done. _Chances_  is a space station once again.

"Do you ever get used to this?" asks Samus once everything has stopped moving.

"Nope," laughs Artemis.

Mr Fate's visage appears on the vidscreen over her bed. "Artemis--oh, and Samus, that's good luck!" He chuckles to himself at his own joke. "I need y'all and the rest o' the Shadow Hunters to come t' my office fer a meetin'. Got yer next assignment."

* * *

When the two of them arrive at the office, the other members of the team are already there: Mordin, the first daughter of Urdnot Wrex, the quarian-geth hybrid Kiriki, and Shade, the shapeshifting remnant of a dead Reaper. Shade has spent the past few days since the mission immersing itself among the resort ship's guests, gathering as much genetic and memetic data as possible without arousing suspicion from the various species who make up _Chances's_  customer base. It seems to enjoy trying on identities like clothes; Artemis hasn't seen it in the same shape twice in the past three days. Right now, it's a male drell with yellow and red scales and a blue fringe, wearing the trim leggings, long gloves and open, chest-displaying vest popular among the drell right now. Samus has commented more than once that they look a little ridiculous, but Artemis rather appreciates the show.

Mr. Fate is still sitting with his back to them, looking out over the casino floor through the great curved window forming one wall of the office. He doesn't react to Artemis and Samus entering the room, even as they approach.

"Fate?" ventures Samus, glancing back at the other four for an explanation.

"Drama queen," mutters Artemis. She had to get used to that when working as his assistant. "Hey Mordin, did you get in touch with your family?"

"I did," says Mordin. Her varren, Urf, bumps his head against Artemis's hand for rubs. "Mom was pretty mad that I didn't tell her _first,_  but she approves anyway. You know her, she's just being a den mother."

"And your dad?"

"Told me to headbutt Shade for him."

"Which you need not do again," adds Shade hurriedly. Mordin chuckles, a deep, throaty sound.

"My apologies fer keepin y'all waitin', Hunters," says Mr. Fate suddenly as he spins around to face them. "I was talkin' t' my better half. Organizin' things, y'all know how it is."

His "better half" is the station intelligence, Lady Luck. He has the same symbiotic partnership with her that Samus does with her own ship, Varia.

"You said you have a new assignment for us?" prompts Samus, taking leadership.

"Darn tootin'!" he says cheerfully. He taps the holo-screen on his desk and a projection of a Reaper capital ship springs up in front of them. Though all capital ships have similar silhouettes, their designs are all unique. The cuttlefish-like exteriors are merely casings, sarcophagi for the true being within, and the exteriors have subtle differences from each other as a result. This one has a pair of arms in the centre of its base that are much shorter than the rest; they appear more like fangs or feelers than legs. They all recognize it.

"Reaper who attacked us within Ma'aleca'andra and on Tuchanka," says Kiriki. "Broker identified?"

"Broker calls this one 'the Inventor'," says Mr. Fate, sitting back in his chair and tilting his head low to obscure the glow of his cybernetic eyes with his hat. "Apparently it'll capture the occasional civilian ship whole, but ain't no one been able to find and stop it--until now."

"So that's where it's getting the new Reapazoids," says Artemis. "It's creating them from the people it captures."

"I remember hearing about civilian ships disappearing," says Samus darkly. "Starfleet always said it was space weather or pirates."

"This business with Shade here," Fate gestures at the drell, "is the first time the Inventor's ever made enough noise to be followed. Over the past few days, the Net's been workin' overtime, an' the Broker thinks it knows where the Inventor has its nest. Planet Feros."

"Feros?" Samus's mandibles flare with surprise and anger.

"Feros is particularly bad?" asks Kiriki, looking up at her.

"For a Reaper who likes to make new nightmares, it must be perfect," says Artemis.

"Yer followin' the Broker's train o' thought there, Puddin'," says Mr. Fate with too much cheer for the topic at hand. "Yer mission, iffin y'all choose to accept it," with a chuckle, "is t' go down to Feros an' find the Inventor's nest. Figure out what exactly this fella's up to, an' shut 'im down. Last thing we need is a Reaper Thorian, y'hear?"

"Agreed," says Samus firmly.

"I accept this mission," says Shade.

Fate chuckles, "That ain't actually strictly--"

"I accept too!" pipes up Kiriki, slamming a fist into xeir other hand decisively.

"Look, I was makin' a joke."

"In _any_  case," says Samus pointedly, "the four of you gear up and get to the docking bay. The sooner we can figure out what the Inventor is doing on Feros, the better."

* * *

Artemis is zipping up her undersuit, the rest of her gear prepared and laid out on the bed, when the door beeps again. "Samus?" she asks, adjusting the suit.

"Incorrect," comes the voice on the other side of the door. "I am Shade."

"Oh--come on in." She looks over her shoulder at the now-salarian figure who enters. "You talk too slowly for a salarian."

"I have not yet gathered sufficient data to create salarian persona systems," says Shade. He shifts, the scale-like pieces of his body turning and moving to recreate the drell form from earlier.

"What do you mean by persona?" she asks as she starts strapping on the modular armor pieces that cover her limbs and torso, providing foundation for the Conduit.

"A system of understood history, behavior, motivation, mannerisms, speech patterns, and conceptualization connected to a defined shape and appearance."

"So, the character that goes along with the look."

"Character." He considers the term. "Yes. Personas, or characters, are necessary for successful infiltration of organic civilization, and are therefore one of my primary functions."

"Right, you said you weren't always in the pod... so you infiltrated civilizations, to study us? Find weaknesses?"

"Yes. Occasionally the situation required direct impersonation, in the case of incomplete or counterproductive indoctrination."

"Does that mean you can indoctrinate? Here, help me out with this." She indicates the tiny mass relay and its connectors lying on the bed.

Shade lifts the device with ease. "What do you require?"

"See the slots on my back? With the blue lights. Plug that in." She turns her back to him and tilts her head down slightly so her fringe doesn't cast a shadow over the lights.

Shade carefully sets the Conduit into its place on her back and ensures all the connectors are stable. "This resembles a mass relay," he says as he works with deft hands. "How was it created?"

"It's a long story," says Artemis, "but Fate and I kind of collaborated on it. Fate's a lot smarter than he looks. He made it, same way he made this ship, and I helped. Well, I was the test dummy, anyway. I can't tell you how, though, I don't even know."

"It is called Conduit after the device of Ilos, is that correct?"

"Yeah, that's it." She connects her boots to her leg armor and briefly activates their jets to ensure the connection functions. "The name was my other contribution."

"I wish to answer your earlier question. My ability to indoctrinate is extremely limited. It does not function as with a Reaper vessel or extension thereof. I can neither control nor influence the thoughts, ideals, or actions of others to any degree. However, I can explore and exploit the minds of others to my own uses."

"You mean with the genetic copying you do?"

"Yes. If I were to maintain the neural link, I could examine the mental structure of my target, as well as more completely copy their physiology. In essence, I can create a perfect duplicate of an individual, given a long enough period to gain the necessary data."

"What happens to the, uh, target?"

"The longer the link is maintained, the more energy is drained from the target. Eventually, the target would have no more. A superficial duplication leaves the target unconscious for one to two days. To be an effective impersonation, the target must be left in a coma for a minimum of one week. A perfect duplication requires the target's death."

Artemis's eyes widen. Assassination and impersonation in one fell swoop. A terrifying tool for the Reapers to have--and maybe even more terrifying now that _she_  has it.

But Shade isn't a tool. That's the key. It must be.

"I have no intention of creating doppelgangers unless directed to as necessary for a mission," says Shade, whose usually dispassionate voice sounds slightly more concerned.

"I admit," says Artemis, rubbing the back of her neck, "that's kind of a relief. That's a scary powerful ability you have there, Shade."

"It was the purpose of my creation," says Shade.

"Have you thought about making a form that's just for you? Something special, like--not about blending in or anything. Just to be Shade."

"No," says Shade. After a moment's hesitation, he sits on the bed beside her. "'Just Shade' is..." He shifts to his base form, the long-limbed, black-scaled, faceless and genderless being, little more than a shadow in three dimensions. "Likely to frighten small children."

Artemis giggles. "You're gaining a sense of humor."

"I am attempting to improve my conversation skills. Thank you for the practise, Artemis Shepard."

 


End file.
